A Language That Opened My Mouth
The untrainable dog
that attacks you for no reason
The nurses that don’t understand
your cries
A foreign hospital and the ER hallway
Where no one knows your fear of needles
But everyone holds you down and
treats the continuously bleeding gash on your face
It is the sharp pain
No anesthesia, IV inserted
The air bubble that creeps
The nurse already halfway down the hall
Walk, move, twitch
Throw up
Scabs, pulled, picked
Gently myself
Caught, stopped, back to the doctor
Bleed again
Start middle school
Scars decorating cheek and lip
Quiet the child becomes
Tired from a memory
That haunts dreams
That haunts wake
The stream of thought never went away
It bubbles at the back of the throat
But the openness is sewn
shut after a mistake
A home
no long comforting
The fear of mistranslation, mistake
Mouth closes and language becomes barrier
Page Guide
Page 2: Self-Portrait
Page 3: Hyphen
Page 4: “What do you remember about the Earth?”
Page 5: A Language That Opened My Mouth
Page 6: Help Me Get Ready: Monologue
Page 7: A Color I Can’t Escape
Reva Kashikar 